It suffices to say I have been quiet, and that's really because I have the most treacherous writer's block ever. It's like my brain is broken, I don't know. I don't feel "me." Case in two points: one, I almost went and had my hair cut off because I am so sick of it. There is SO much of it. But my hair is full of secrets, so I can't very well go sending them scattering in a million directions when my locks hit the salon floor. Two, I was very seriously contemplating breaking out my old YSL Tributes (really, Jess?) for this weekend because I had some wild hair that I needed to feel tall and look like RuPaul's sexed-up trophy wife. I don't know though, those shoes have context. I'm going to an Agent Provocateur party next week and they feel relevant.
You know what else I did? I went on the Master Cleanse because apparently what I need is a reason to be totally miserable. Beyonce, girl, I do not know how you did that for 20 days. Hat tip.
I have thought so much about The Love List and where I want to take it next - big bad blog or totally pared down? I think I'm settling on the latter. I'll go into more detail in the next few weeks, but for now it suffices to say I am totally bored with the way "all things blog" are done. I am tired of hokey roundup posts and inspirational quotes and street style photos that all look the same, but I don't yet have the answer for that grand question that won't vacate my mind: "what's next?" The only thing I know is that I will continue to write, and that good words are what will continue to fuel The Love List. I have a big splashy tale to tell, but I am holding off on that story quite yet.
So I am headed to New York for the weekend to see some of my favorite people in the world, which always blows the cobwebs off when my mind is starting to feel like a madwoman's dusty attic. Max has asked me to make what he adorably calls "the pimento cheese spread" (my family long ago abbreviated it to "p.cheese") for his birthday party this weekend, which warranted Duke's mayo being rush shipped to Manhattan. If that's any indication of the weekend to come, it will be exactly what I need.
I made a playlist for you guys - it's a Prince/Robin Thicke/Solange funked up sammich with a good stretch of Bibio and Snowden-induced chill in the center. Perfect stuff for plane rides and afternoon drinks with friends. You can listen to that on Spotify by clicking here.
Other thoughts: what do y'all think of Tinder? It's all anyone seems to be talking about these days. Oh, and I feel the need to alert you 90's ladies that Andrew Keegan is on twitter. So there's that.